


Of Werewolves and Prostitutes

by Merlinnn



Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, M/M, Not very graphic but trigger warnings all the same, Prostitute!Peter, Season/Series 01, Self-Harm, Slurs, Sort of AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 13:06:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5091845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merlinnn/pseuds/Merlinnn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter is a male prostitute working the Hemlock Grove area, frequently picking up the incredibly rich Roman Godfrey. How does their dirty little secret work out when they realise they go to school together? What do they do when girls start to get murdered?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Usual, Sir?

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I started this fic well over a year ago and originally posted it here, but literally a chapter from the end my mind went blank. I kept coming back to it but couldn't come up with anything. Then I binge-watched seasons 1, 2 and 3 on the day S3 was released and I knew I had to finish this so I put my head down and wrote.
> 
> Now the reason I'm reposting this instead of just adding a chapter is that for anyone who read the original, you'll know it was a messy clusterfuck riddled with errors. I reread it before starting writing again and I'm so embarrassed I let myself post it, so I've gone through it and tidied it up. Fingers crossed this version is cleaner and just so much better overall.
> 
> Please enjoy the now completed version!!

Peter felt sick, sick to the bottom of his empty stomach. He could feel the rumbles from within trembling through his body and groaning out loud.  
"Sorry," He murmured apologetically, shifting his eyes upwards slightly before looking away again. He placed a hand over his stomach and pressed down, as though it might curb the hunger.  
"200, right?" asked Roman and Peter nodded, a faint smile drifting across his face. It sounded like so much yet it didn't go far. With his long and slender fingers two $100 dollar bills were unwrapped from the wad and slapped down on the bedside table. Roman closed his brown leather wallet, slipping it away and pulling the coat from his shoulders.  
"Over," he commanded darkly. Peter complied, rolling onto his stomach and resting on his forearms. Hands tugged at his trousers and they slid over his thighs and quickly dropped to the ground, leaving him in just plain black boxers. He heard a rustle of clothes and threw a glance over his shoulder to watch as Roman removed his tight waistcoat and fitted shirt, alongside tailored trousers and underpants. He slowly dragged the boxers over Peter's bare ass and dropped them onto the growing pile of clothes before dragging his eyes over the bared skin before him. Peter's eyes closed softly, accustomed to the quick ripping of a condom wrapper and ugly squirt of lube and then he was gone, making all the rights noises at all the right times as long as Roman came by the end.

Roman was young and it was over soon. Peter glanced over at the clock and let out a sigh. It was 10:04pm, meaning that there was still more than enough time to pick up more clients. Slowly he gazed at his latest customer, who was peering into the cheap and greasy motel mirror at the small, healing incision on his cheek. He caught Peter's eyes in the mirror and Peter turned away sharply, digging through the mountain of clothes on the floor to redress himself.   
"You know my name?" asked Roman, leaning against the wall in just his trousers and, Peter noticed, without underwear before lighting a cigarette, regardless of the no smoking signs.  
"Everyone knows your name," smirked Peter, looking up at him properly for the first time that night. Roman didn't smile back.  
"You don't know my name," he said, pushing off from the wall to stand above Peter at full height, another two $100 bills pressed into his chest. Peter took them and collected the previous two, haphazardly shoving them into his jeans pocket as he found his tight black shirt and slipped it over his head. Peter gave Roman the barest nod before heading towards the door.  
"I'll be seeing you soon," called Roman and Peter paused briefly. Roman knew Peter didn't arrange hook-ups. He knew he picked up whoever was around. Yet as Peter headed outside into the rain without any acknowledgement he'd heard him, he knew he'd wait diligently for him, and only him to turn up.

////

"Its early," said Destiny as Peter tried and failed to enter the little apartment quietly. Not that it mattered; she was sat in the kitchen with a mug of something warm and earthy in her hands.  
"Got paid extra," he shrugged, slapping the money onto the table beside her. She made a little "oohing" noise as she lifted one bill from the roll and inspected it in the light.  
"Who from?" she asked, her eyebrow raised expectantly as Peter poured himself a glass of orange juice.  
"Why do you think I got paid extra?" he replied, smirking back at her as he gulped back the cool, energizing liquid, collected the money back up and put it all in a little ceramic jar in the corner ready for the day the bills arrived. The room remained silent as he turned to lean against the counter and light a cigarette, an image of Roman doing the exact same gestures barely an hour earlier floating through his mind as Destiny returned to sipping her herbal tea, lost in her own thoughts.  
"No Andreas?" Peter inquired after many minutes of welcome solitude and Destiny gave a short shake of her head before taking an unexpectedly large gulp of tea. She gave no explanation and he didn't push for one. The silence ensued. Peter raked a hand through his hair, sighing in realization that it was time again for a haircut. Destiny's mug landed on the bench with an empty thud and their eyes briefly met before they both began moving separately; Peter moved from the counter and placed the glass he'd been rolling in his hand in the sink as Destiny turned on the tap and began washing her own mug. From there he headed towards his room and she headed towards hers.  
"Good luck tomorrow," she finally said, smiling at him and in return, Peter couldn't help but smile back. With that, they closed our bedroom doors respectively.

////

Roman pulled up silently in his red Jaguar outside the mansion that was his home. It was a tall and imposing building, with a winding turret on one side and a pillared entrance to the front. He locked the car door and simply stood, breathing in the fresh, clean air. His long coat billowed around his knees as he clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly, inhaling the damp and rain-filled atmosphere. Finally he moved forwards towards the front door and he quietly unlocked it and headed in. The hallway was dark, as was the twisting staircase upstairs. He glanced left and right and was unsurprised to see the whole house in a state of darkness. Olivia must've gone to bed already. Silently he headed upstairs, walking past his own bedroom to enter Shelley's attic. Deftly he avoided the creaky floorboards as not to awake her.  
"Hey Shelley," he breathed, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as she slept. Roman gave her a soft smile, the attic echoing with Shelley's light snores.  
"I'm sorry," he murmured to himself, dragging a finger over her cheek and leaving a blue glow in its wake. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, his lips lingering for barely a second before he straightened back up and left the room.

Once back in his own room he swiftly undressed, dumping the expensive clothes on his floor in exchange for a pair of loose-fitting cotton pajama bottoms. He moved over to his own mirror, this one much cleaner and with an overly intricate frame, to reinspect his wound. He ripped off the band-aid, wincing slightly before pulling at the skin on his cheek. It was a clean, straight cut and was small enough to pass as a shaving accident however Roman groaned internally at his stupidity. Why did he go for his face? Rising up from his gut was an insatiable hatred at himself, his stupidity, his freaky habits and his absolute repulsiveness. He felt his fists curl and it took his entire restraint to prevent himself from smashing his fist through his ugly reflection. Breaths came fast and frequent, his chest heaving as his fists slowly but surely uncurled by his sides. Instead he moved to the mantlepiece above the long-defunct fireplace to pick up the coupling link - the first object ever to be made at Godfrey steel - and give it a hard tug. A satisfying clang rang through his room but the couplings remained intact, earning a grin from Roman.  
"You're still awake?" came a voice from his doorway and Roman almost dropped the coupling in surprise as he turned to face his mother, dressed in a flowing white dress with a fitted waistline and a decorated U-shaped collar. To Roman it seemed like the most inappropriate thing one could wear to bed, but then so did most of his mother's wardrobe.  
"I'm going now," he told her, placing the coupling back in its position with a deliberate CLUNK, eliciting a shudder from his mother and a smirk from Roman, as he moved towards his impressive king sized bed and slid in. He heard rather than saw his mother move closer as though to tuck him in but instead Roman rolled over and away from his door. Olivia paused by the edge of his bed, her arm outstretched before thinking better of it and retracting her arm and leaving Roman's bedroom as silently as she had entered. 

////

The next day saw a tired looking Roman Godfrey pull up in the school parking lot on the first day of the new semester, his cousin Letha on his arm. He grinned down at her and she smiled back up, all dimples and fair hair. Together they moved through the crowds, people pressed to the sides as though they were the Red Sea and the Godfreys Moses. Chatter rippled through the student body as Letha headed into her homeroom and Roman into his yet before he could take his usual seat Roman stopped dead, his eyes trained on the last person he expected to see. Sitting in the seat behind his was Roman Godfrey's favourite male prostitute.


	2. Not Tonight, Little Whore

Peter had barely settled into his seat when he felt a pair of eyes burning into his skull. He lifted his head curiously; nobody paid him much attention, he was always just the quiet gypsy kid with hair too long and thrift store clothes. He glanced around slightly before finding the pair of eyes. Shit. They made eye contact before Peter looked away sharply, his eyes staring intently at the worn floorboards of the classroom until his eyesight went blurry. It was Roman. Here. In his homeroom. Underneath his shirt his heart pumped with a ferocity so intense he could almost feel the heart attack beginning to happen. What was he doing here?! Peter swallowed deeply before looking back up to meet his confused stare. Destiny had once told him that you could see someone's true nature in their eyes yet as he properly looked into Roman's hazel iris for the first time he saw nothing but coldness. An empty coldness like no other. A shudder scorched through his bones as Roman turned back around and their teacher entered.

Peter thanked any deity listening as he headed into first period without any sign of Roman. Math. Easy, simple, something he could get his head around. Something with rules, unlike the fucked up universe in which he lived. Without difficulty Peter completed the tasks set before him, the numbers and letters distracting him from the fact that he was sharing a school with a client. Somewhere deep in his subconscious, he heard Chris, an old friend from an even older street corner tell him during one tequila-filled night that he should never pick up someone his own age because the chances were you'd see them around. Yet when Roman had first approached Peter with a wallet full of green bills, he knew it was an opportunity he couldn't let up. He was so fucking rich, and he was prepared to pay however much Peter asked.

More lessons passed with little mishap, other than the textbook he couldn't actually afford but would be stolen by the end of the week, and before he knew it it was lunch. Peter had little money but had enough to pick up a soda and a cheese sandwich before heading outside to sit on the wall overlooking the football training grounds.  
"We need to talk," came a voice and his head snapped up to see Roman sitting down opposite him. Peter barely contained his shudder - he would have to get used to hearing Roman's voice in a setting other than some cheap ass motel room.  
"We do?" Peter replied cockily, watching the sun shift ever so slightly and land directly on Roman's face. He squinted up at Peter but Peter could still feel his angry glare.  
"What the fuck are you doing here?" he growled angrily, and Peter didn't dare tell him that when he growled like that, all thoughts moved south.  
"Fuck you," retorted Peter, ignoring all the things he knew Roman could do to him as he stood up and began walking away. Peter couldn't believe his arrogance. It wasn't his fault that this was only high school for miles and that Roman was the one so ashamed he picked up prostitutes.  
"Just stay away from me," Roman snarled, yanking at Peter's arm before letting it go with a shove.  
"Happily," sneered Peter, shoving Roman's chest with two hands before heading off towards his next lesson, feeling the eyes upon his back. He wanted to look around, to see whether Roman had stalked off too, to see if people were watching him too, but Peter didn't dare give him that satisfaction.

Destiny was curled up on her sinking couch, the patchy throw bunched up underneath her as she shovelled cereal into her mouth and stoically watched the grainy little game-show on the ancient TV.  
"School good?" she asked, not turning to look at Peter as he made his own bowl of cereal and joined her on the sofa.  
"One of my guys goes there," he informed her and she almost choked on her cornflakes. She finally turned to face him and he gave her an awkward smile.  
"Fuck Peter! You can't pick him up again," she warned, glaring at him hard. They held eyes for a few minutes, both judging one another silently. Finally Peter shrugged dismissively and turned his attention back to the TV.  
"Peter!" yelped Destiny with a sharp jab at his side, causing milk to spill from the bowl to his lap, leaving an awkwardly placed stain.  
"Fine D! I won't screw him!" he snarled, slapping the bowl down on the table and generating another dark milk stain on the carpet. Peter heard his cousin sigh behind him as he stomped into the bathroom to clean himself up, knowing full well that nothing Destiny said was going to stop him from screwing Roman and earning himself a few bucks from it.

////

On the other side of town, the Godfrey house was ablaze with the hot, angry exchange of words between Roman and his mother.  
"You told me you would pick her up," snarled Olivia, her poisonous finger pointed at Shelley.  
"I said no such thing! Today is Thursday and Thursday is your day!" replied Roman indignantly, watching a trembling Shelley warily. She just wanted the yelling to stop; it didn't matter who had or hadn't picked her up from school! Not for the first time, Shelley wished that she could just learn to drive.  
"She is your sister-" began Olivia, only to be cut off by a sighing "fuck you" from Roman. She lifted her palm and struck her son once over the cheek, the sharp slap echoing through the mansion.  
"Don't ever say that again," she warned and beneath his reddening cheek Roman could feel the urge to slap her back, to punch her, to strangle her.  
"Now go to your room." said Olivia, her hands on her hips and her voice concrete.  
"With pleasure," replied a sullen Roman, his fists uncurling bit by bit as he headed upstairs, eyes low and glowering. He entered his bedroom and closed the door with a deafening slam.

Roman could hear his mother downstairs, talking to Shelley or Conway, and then Shelley's cumbering steps up to her attic and all he could feel was hatred for the bitch that was his mother. Time moved slowly; he watched some porn but soon became bored by the fakeness of it, he drank a glass of vodka and ice but it didn't create its usual buzz. Roman was frustrated. This ball of anger was sitting in the base of his gut and refusing to disappear - just sitting there, growing. Finally, after many paces across his bedroom floor he dug through his chest of drawers before retrieving a small plastic bag filled with one very special white powder. Roman knocked over a small mirror and shook out a portion before retrieving a razor blade from his collection and cutting it into neat little lines. With a dollar bill tightly rolled up, Roman snorted the whole line up his left nostril and it hit him immediately. The almost overwhelming high coursed through his veins, turning every limb to liquid nothing and sending his eyes rolling back in his skull. He clutched onto his chest of drawers, breathing long and heavy as if to compensate until eventually he could feel himself coming back. His muscles were soft and loose, his head was fuzzy and bright and Roman was back in control.

He'd attended every single class about drugs, he'd heard all the horror stories, he'd seen the "Faces of Meth" photos and he'd seen the videos about stopping times and reaction times. But Roman trusted himself, always himself above others. As a result he climbed into his treasured red Jaguar and pulled out of the garage despite the slight differences in his depth perception. He drove fast, undoubtedly over the speed limit through the streets of Hemlock Grove. There were few people about; the streets were void of children, the shops empty of adults and the roads empty of anything other than a few old codgers heading out for their next packet of Marlboro. The gears shifted beneath him, a grin spreading through his face at the satisfactory sound his speed generated. Nothing could compete to the surge of adrenaline and cocaine and pure excitement that was bleeding through Roman Godfrey.

9:53pm. Still a bit early for the clubs to open, but Roman wasn't known for his patience. He pulled up not far from a favourite haunt of his and lit up a cigarette. He watched people come and go, whores and their men, men looking but then driving off again and of course, those who believed they held their dignities intact as they queued up in orange pipeline trousers and pink sparkly tops waiting for Liberty to open, the nearest gay club for miles. Roman elongated his arm out of the window to flick out the ash as the smoke curled out of his mouth and nose in front of his eyes. Minutes passed and Roman continued to inhale and exhale the toxic smoke, his breathing calm and his high reducing to little more than a quiet hum in the back of his head. Then he arrived, the Romani kid with the strange tattoo and a desire to fuck up Roman's life. Turning up at school like that? Swanning around like he owned the place even though he was little more than a whore. Roman hated what he was doing to him. He was a good fuck and Roman would always get more than his money's worth out of him but now the boy knew him. The long-haired fucker was in a position to spread anything he wanted about Roman, and no Godfrey would just let that happen.

////

It was a popular spot for those like Peter, just a few paces from Liberty and always full of rich boys with daddy's trust fund or old men sick of their wife. He tried his hand with a young guy, mid twenties with cropped blonde hair and a lean build but he gave Peter a disdainful look and went off with Dan. Peter shrugged. Each to their own he supposed. A car pulled up, a nice black sedan and inside sat a business man, thirties maybe and in a not-so-cheap suit. He grinned up at Peter and Peter was about to climb into the passenger seat when he saw, in the parking lot across the road, a distinct red Jaguar and the suit-clad teen inside. Roman. A gulp caught in his throat as somewhere in his subconscious he heard Destiny yell at him to stay away from Roman and to stop fucking him. Her words were logical, he shouldn't screw him, not now that they knew each other out of work, but of their own accord his feet ignored the business man before him and instead began to cross the road. Suddenly his shoulders were yanked backwards. Peter spun instantaneously, missing the man with his fists by mere centimetres. It wasn't unusual for men to think that they could control the boys on the sidewalk and use them as they wanted. However as Peter took in the face of his assailant properly he realised that it was Andreas who had dragged him from what could've become the worst mistake of his life.   
"You have to help me!" he began, insistently taking Peter's hand and pulling him away from the crowd, "Destiny's thrown me out Peter, I don't know what to do!"  
"Andreas!" he said, removing his hand and placing it squarely on his shoulder, "What happened? Why did she throw you out?"  
All Andreas could do was shrug helplessly and take Peter's hand again, pulling it towards his car. Peter threw a glance over his shoulder and saw Roman, his jacket buttons undone and his cuffs rolled up as he walked up to a boy, Harry, and wrapped an arm over his shoulders. They walked back towards his car only for Roman to glance back towards Peter and smirk with nothing short of malice.


	3. Gypsy Scum

Three days passed and Peter didn't see Roman outside of school once. He tried all of Roman's favourite haunts but no matter where he was he couldn't find him. Irritation settled in his heart. Peter need to prove something to him - he wasn't his whore, he didn't need him. Roman couldn't hurt him. School passed and Roman never even glanced at him - not that he minded. School wasn't exactly the setting he'd had in mind to give Roman a piece of his mind. 

On the third day Peter ended up back outside Liberty, a little later than he'd hoped for due to the meltdown Andreas and Destiny had been acting out. According to D she'd kicked him out due to his "stupid fucking plans always turning to shit" and "the never ending secrets". Andreas switched on his charm and promised her this and promised her that but Destiny was a true Rumancek and believed none of his bullshit. He'd left, dejected. Peter had shot a sympathetic shrug his way but he had warned him. Destiny was the one person in this universe you did not want one your bad side.  
"You're late," commented Dan, raising an eyebrow at Peter before flicking a smirk over the tanned guy walking past. The man continued on, completely ignoring Dan.  
"Family," explained Peter as the rejected twink turned back to face him.  
"Well don't expect much. The guys tonight are being real picky," moaned Dan, trying a different guy but being rejected again.  
"Hmph," murmured Peter, running his hands through his hair and circling his tongue over his teeth. Men came and went, some glancing him over with his coy smile and bright blue eyes whilst others walked straight past, but none seemed interested in picking him up. After spending the past few days searching for Roman and no one else he needed the cash. A lad with the sort of spiky hair more suited to a twelve year old approached him but was soon shoved out of the way by a much taller assailant.   
"Hey!" Peter retorted, glaring angrily at the attacker only to find himself staring into the insistent hazel eyes of Roman Godfrey. His voice died in his throat. Finally. Roman smirked down at him, pulling out a wad of notes from his designer coat, flicking through them with his thumb. There was a lot there, more than enough to cover the past few nights of lost work but Peter needed to teach him a lesson. He needed to show him. As if on cue a car pulled up with its windows rolled down. Inside sat an ageing man, his hair grey in places, his hairline receding and wrinkles starting at the corners of his mouth. Smirking up at Roman Peter sidestepped him and leaned on the open window of the black car.  
"Can I help you?" he grinned cheekily before opening up the door and sliding in. The man smiled across at Peter before pulling away from the curb quickly. A glance in the wing mirror told him everything he needed to know. Roman remained on the pavement, sucking on his teeth in barely controlled fury. 

////

Roman watched Peter step around him and lean on the car door, his ass in the air as if to tease him. He glanced inside the car and saw a man who, in Roman's opinion, was old enough to drop dead at any minute. His lip curled slightly; Peter wasn't going to pick the old fart over him yet he felt his ego deflate dramatically in the seconds it took for Peter to climb into the car and drive off. Roman felt his anger bubble rapidly as he shoved his clenched fists in his pockets and sucked on his molars. He'd been rejected for a guy three times his age. The urge to punch something rocketed through him but he grasped onto it and controlled it, his mind racing through the situation for an answer. His own medicine. That was the bitter taste hanging onto his tongue; his own fucking medicine.  
"Hello," smirked a kid, standing in front of Roman and slowly opening the top button of his shirt with a raised eyebrow.  
"Who do you think I am? A faggot?!" growled Roman, deliberately shoving the boy's shoulder as he stalked past him in a ball of anger and rage. He got into his prized Jaguar, his heart pounding beneath his shirt with an unquenchable desire for savagery. 

It wasn't until many hours and glasses of vodka later that Roman lay sprawled over his his bed and came to the realisation that Peter was teaching him a lesson. Peter wasn't his. He couldn't control him the way he controlled every other aspect of his life. Roman rolled himself into a foetal ball. Control was his anger management. Without control, how could he even begin to stay calm about it? He released a primal cry as he jumped up and thrust his fist straight through the beige wall above his bed, cracks splintering outwards as he held his bleeding fist and felt hot tears trickle down his cheeks.

////

Seven hundred smackaroos. Destiny picked Peter up in an overwhelming hug of coffee and perfume when he dumped the pile of notes on the kitchen counter. It was well known fact that the majority of older men paid well over the odds for ones services but even this was a bit extreme.  
"You know what this means cuz," grinned Destiny as she fingered the paper with a devilish gleam of excitement.  
"I do?" he replied, taking the orange juice from the fridge and drinking straight from the carton.  
"Just wait here," she told him, picking out a $100 bill and stuffing it into her pocket before snatching her phone and leaving the flat in a hurry. Peter raised an eyebrow at her departure before shrugging it off, grabbing an entire packet of biscuits and polishing them off whilst watching a show about fat people.

Destiny returned just under an hour later and as Peter stood patiently in front of the decrepit sandwich maker waiting for the bread to toast and the cheese to melt, she dumped a bottle of Jack and a large bag of weed in front of him.  
"Worth the money?" she asked him, stealing his toasted sandwich from the machine and taking a massive bite before he could stop her. Peter childishly stuck his tongue out at her before nodding and retrieving two glasses and a little tin of papers. 

The weekend passed in a beautiful and gentle haze of warm marijuana and burning whiskey. For two long days Peter would join D on the couch and watch some shitty TV show whilst letting his mind float away from himself with whiskey in one hand and a joint in the other. All thoughts of Roman Godfrey evaporated and for the first time in weeks, he felt blissful.

Later, on Sunday night, Peter ran through the woods just as he did every month. It felt good to change. It felt good to have the wind curl through his fur and the air to whip past his ears yet Peter could feel something different beneath his paws. The scents and sights and sounds were the same but he could feel the earth shift on its axis as he ran. Something had changed. Something had changed beyond repair. As he returned to Destiny's the next morning Peter knew the weekend of freedom had ended in more ways than one.

////

Pain. She could feel pain but it barely registered in her mind before it was over. It was an intense burning in her abdomen that grew and grew with every feral growl the beast made and every frightful scream that escaped her throat. She could hear the ripping of flesh and she knew, even without the pain, that the flesh was hers. Every nerve was set alight in agony but in seconds it was over and she felt utterly free, an ethereal spirit gazing back at her destroyed body. The chalky wolf saw her eyes close with death and in one final tug with its canines it tore her body in half.

In the crisp air of autumn Brooke Bluebell died alone.

////

The school was alive with the news. A junior had died. Had been murdered. Girls shed their tears by the bucket load, heavy breathing echoing off the suddenly cold and empty walls. A teacher looked beyond distraught, visibly shaking as she clutched the edge of her desk. It was a madhouse. Roman moved through the crowds effortlessly, gazing over the swarms of girls that lined the corridors until he found his.  
"Letha," he smiled gently, using the pad of his thumb to wipe away a stray tear.  
"I barely knew her!" wailed his cousin, clutching onto his jacket in distress, "But just thinking about what that monster did!"  
"I know," soothed Roman, his voice washing over her in a wave of calm and comfort as he wrapped his arms around her and stroked her soft hair with the barest of touches. Letha melted against him, her tears creating a wet patch on the front of Roman's shirt but he barely noticed as Peter entered the school and their eyes met over the sea of wailing teenagers. Roman narrowed his eyes as Peter took in his surroundings with an uncaring eyebrow raise. 

Later that day after most of the crying had subsided, the principal had held an assembly in her honour, and Letha had reapplied her mascara, they sat on a wall overlooking the pitches sharing a sandwich.  
"Who do you think it was?" asked Letha curiously, taking a demure bite of the baguette before passing it over. Roman used his canines to bite out a large chunk of bread and cheese and tomato as he shrugged.  
"I have a few ideas," he said nonchalantly.   
"Oh yeah?" she smirked enquiringly, taking an even bigger bite than Roman did with a raise of her eyebrow. Silence gripped the conversation as Roman squinted against the midday sun and swiveled his head slightly to take a good look at the other students out and about. Waiting patiently, Letha offered him the sandwich again but he shook his head, instead opening his packet of cigarettes and lighting one up. The smoke blew from his nostrils and parted lips into Letha's face but she ignored it, instead focused on Roman's squinted face.  
"That new kid," he finally said, his voice thick with smoke, "that gypsy piece of trash gutted her for one of his sick sacrifices."  
Letha stared at him hard as he took another long drag and gazed around again. She wrapped the sandwich back in its clingflim and jumped off the wall, yet before she walked away she turned back to face her cousin.  
"You sound far too much like Olivia," she told him with absolute conviction before walking away and tossing the half eaten sandwich in the trash. Roman watched her go critically, his eyes set hard on her back until she was out of sight and only then did he take another long inhalation, letting the smoke settle in his lungs and control his trembling hand.

////

Maybe if he walked fast enough they wouldn't catch up to him. Maybe if he walked fast enough he would be safe on the bus where they wouldn't dare attack him. Maybe.... it wasn't Peter's lucky day and just paces from the bus doors he felt a tapping on his shoulder and as he turned, a fist to his stomach. Peter instantly retaliated, trying to grip the guy with the fist in a headlock but from nowhere came another assailant, locking his arms behind his back as one guy punched his stomach again and the other nutted him. He crumpled to his knees as the agony spread from his groin to join the twisted ache in his stomach. They gave his head a final shove and released his arms causing him to topple over and thwack his head against the tarmac.  
"That's for Brooke!" yelled one of them as they walked off, leaving Peter battered and bloody on the pavement. Slowly he sat up, checking his ribs and then the cut at his hairline as the crowd that had gathered dispersed once they realised the fight was over. He scanned his eyes over the crowd and spotted Roman standing back up the hill by the entrance, looking down on him expressionless before moving away. It wasn't exactly unusual for peter to be accused of whatever the gadjo wanted to accuse him of but Peter had no connections to this girl whatsoever. There was no reason to suspect him, unless you were the most influential boy at school and had the ear of everyone.

Destiny went mad. She sat Peter down on the sofa and refused to let him leave as she got a cold flannel and cleaned the cut before sticking a band-aid on it and giving him frozen peas for his stomach and passing him a shot of vodka to down.   
"Why the fuck did they attack you?" she finally asked, sitting beside him once she'd finished her fussing. Peter shrugged.  
"They think I killed that girl," he explained. D sighed. What did she expect? It was bound to happen sooner or later.  
"Just stay away from them," she eventually said quietly, squeezing his knee before getting up.  
"What am I, five? This isn't kindergarten Destiny!" Peter exclaimed, turning to face her as she opened the fridge.  
"Peter! You know what I mean. Don't draw attention to yourself and don't argue back."  
"Thanks a bunch cuz. Not like mom taught me that when I first went to school."

Peter snuck out as soon as he could hear the soft, wheezing snores from Destiny's bedroom. She'd barred him from heading out tonight, claiming he needed rest and recuperation but Peter kept tossing and turning, his sheets a ball at his feet as his mind refused to switch off. He needed a distraction.

The scene was well underway by the time Peter turned up. He'd skipped Liberty tonight and instead headed over to an abandoned industrial site not far from the centre of Hemlock Grove. It was often eerie at night, without the flashing neon signs they were left alone with the pale moonlight and the faded glow of a solitary streetlight. There were a few cars pulled up on the opposite curb and a few more drove past slowly with the passenger window rolled down. Boys would lean forwards and smile their best smile. Some would get in the car, others would shrug and walk away. All the business here was done by car. Peter hung back. Some cars or their owners would simply raise his hackles and others would be someone else's regular. Peter wasn't one for regulars. All too often they'd get attached, like Mr Cole had up in Ohio. With a sinking heart Peter realised he'd probably end up just going back to D's and have another sleepless night in his box of a room. He began to head away when he heard an unmistakable rumble of an engine.  
"Get in," said the lean figure in the drivers seat, staring out of his window to the factory opposite - anywhere but at Peter. Peter knew that Roman was the one that had started those rumours, that he was the one who was to blame for the beatings that were undoubtedly going to come yet still he climbed into his car and let him drive him to a cheap motel room right on the edge of town.

////

Peter was asleep. They'd came simultaneously, heads thrown back in ecstasy yet as soon as Roman had pulled out and disposed of the condom, Peter was fast asleep. He felt a chuckle rise in a throat as he picked up his cigarettes and lit one. Carefully he lifted the sheet and placed the sheet over Peter's body before physically recoiling from the situation. For the first time since they'd met Peter hadn't gotten up straight away, collected his money and left. He'd stayed. Roman had no idea what that meant. He felt a tremor rise in his left hand but shook it away violently. Roman had no idea why Peter was here. Peter had humiliated him and in turn he had started a rumour that would last for a few, painful weeks. Why the fuck had Peter gotten in his car? More to the point why had he gone to pick him up in the first place? Roman's laughter bounced in the silence, the vileness of the sound filling his ears. He knew exactly why he'd gone down to the mills. He raised his head slowly, taking a final drag on his cigarette before putting it out in the ash tray. As the smoke escaped him he leaned over Peter, the hot air ghosting his cheek.  
"I'm sorry," murmured Roman before turning to pick up his clothes and dress himself.

////

Peter awoke in the morning to find himself in a strange bed, $150 on the bedside table and a scribbled handwritten note.

I've already paid for the room.  
\- R

He exhaled slowly, turning over to find the rest of the bed empty and seemingly unslept in. Peter had fallen asleep straight away and he felt like mentally slapping himself. Peter believed it was wholly unprofessional to just presume oneself and fall asleep. He got up and dressed quickly, gazing at the alarm clock for the first time and breathing a sigh of relief as he realised he could slip back into bed without Destiny ever knowing he'd left. Slipping the money into his pocket as he gave the room a quick sweep, Peter suddenly felt a brush of wind over his cheek and a faint, sepia-tainted memory of someone leaning over him and saying something, yet he shook away the air and the indistinguishable words as he walked away from the motel room in the early morning light.


	4. A Something Not A Nothing

"Why did you do it?" Peter asked Roman bluntly, walking directly up to him during lunch as he leant against the school building in that irritatingly confident slouch, a cigarette between his fingers.  
"Do what?" he asked, feigning stupidity as though it would better the situation. Peter simply stood right in front of him, his eyes glaring in both irritation and anger. They stayed for a few seconds staring at each other when finally Roman broke eye contact with a heavy sigh.  
"I did it 'cos... well 'cos I could," he shrugged, talking a long drag of his cigarette and blowing it inadvertently in Peter's face. Peter's infuriation grew at Roman's non-committal reply yet Peter knew that this time, they were on equal standing. Peter wasn't going to look away and avoid eye contact anymore.  
"You're an ass," he told Roman with a shake of his head, stepping back slightly and turning to go.  
"Yeah well what's new?" Roman asked after him, kicking off the wall and tossing away his cigarette. Peter sucked on his teeth as Roman's words stopped him in his tracks. At times like this Peter despised the fact that Roman Godfrey could rile him up like no one else.  
"Would your life have been any easier if I wasn't here? If you'd never met me?" he enquired and all he gained in return was a hard stare and utter silence. The obscure chatter of the students around them faded away as Roman refused to open his mouth in reply. When Peter realised no reply was forthcoming, he turned back around and walked away again. At times like this, he wished he'd never met Roman.

Peter kept his eyes low to the ground as he walked away from Roman and back into the school building yet before he could enter he walked into a short freshman with wild, unruly hair.   
"I know you," she told him insistently, clutching a notebook tight to her chest.  
"Right," agreed Peter, unwilling to engage in an argument with a freshman. He dodged around but she blocked him again.  
"I know what you get up to when you think nobody's looking," she continued insistently, her green eyes a mixture of stubborn knowledge and curiosity. Peter glanced around quickly at her revelation, his mind racing to find a way she could've found out.  
"I don't know what you're on about," he told her flatly, wondering if she had followed him to a motel somewhere. She seemed like the kind of person to do that in case it lead somewhere interesting. She gazed over his face and then down his body and back up, as if analysing him through his clothes.  
"I'm onto you," she said simply before turning and heading into the building, leaving him standing there in shock and with an unsteady heartbeat of pure fear. Peter was rooted to the spot when over his shoulder he heard a shout of "There he is!" and "Go get him!", propelling him to move at last and dash into the building, away from the imminent beating.

Thankfully he managed to escape being beaten to a pulp for the rest of the day, those hell-bent on revenge in entirely different classes to Peter and his low-profile in the corridors lead to few, if any, stares and whispers. The school day was drawing to a close and he concocted a plan to get onto the bus with minimal chance of being attacked. Peter set out at a mad sprint, running quite literally for his life and he was almost there, only feet from the steps of the bus when he felt a hand on his arm. Fearing the worst he spun around, fists raised and ready to punch only to have that arm caught too. Roman looked straight at him and released his arms.  
"No, it wouldn't," he said before turning and leaving Peter alone. Peter stood dumbstruck for a moment, unable to comprehend what on earth he was on about when it hit him. Roman was replying to the unanswered question Peter had asked at lunch time. He almost smiled as he watched Roman walk towards his cousin and sister, who were waiting patiently for him to drive them home, when he spotted someone beelining for him. Forgetting about Roman for the immediate future, Peter whipped around and bolted for that bus.

Returning home to find Andreas and Destiny on the couch having a heart to heart was unexpected to say the least. Two empty coffee mugs sat on the coffee table as they faced each other from opposite ends, Destiny's legs tucked beneath herself and Andreas's arms wrapped over the back of the sofa.  
"Hey cuz," said Peter warily, dumping his bag by the door and heading into the kitchen as Destiny turned to face him, "Everything okay?"  
She nodded quickly, "We're just chatting. Andreas is looking for jobs," she explained and Peter made a little "ah" sound as the kettle boiled and he made his own mug of coffee.  
"So... are you guys together again?"  
"We're working on it cuz," she told him and he could see a glimmer of a smile on her lips.   
"Well you know where to find me," he said, taking a sip and burning his tongue as he picked up his schoolbag and headed into his bedroom. He was about to close his bedroom door when he heard a faint "Do I?" but Peter ignored it and closed the door. He knew his job wasn't on her list of Careers She Was Okay With but she wasn't going to stop him. She'd known since first meeting him as a child that once he'd made a decision, little she could do or say would stop him. 

Hours later Peter heard the front door close as a signal of Andreas's departure. He left his bedroom to find Destiny in front of the sink, washing their mugs.  
"So?" he asked and she gave a slight jump before turning against the sink to look at him.  
"So we're working it out," she replied, turning off the taps aggressively, "I take it you're headed out tonight."   
She gave a nod in his general direction and Peter glanced down at his current outfit. He was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans, his old and scruffy work boots, a loose-fitting plaid shirt with the first few buttons undone and an old beige waistcoat. Peter shrugged, running a hand through his hair and giving himself another mental reminder to get it cut.  
"Peter," she began and he looked back up at his cousin to find her looking at him in all seriousness, the way she had when he had first told her about his preferred job, "Are you still seeing that guy? The one at school?"  
Peter couldn't hold her gaze and looked away quickly, scratching at his cheek as she sighed.  
"And?" she asked and he sharply looked back up at the lack of yelling or lecturing.  
"And.... and it's a bit awkward but... it's... we're working it out," Peter valiantly tried to explain as it registered that he himself had no clue as to where he and Roman stood.   
"Does he... y'know?" she asked quietly and Peter replied with a savage laugh.  
"Probably not. I mean... he's not like that.. but..." his mind whirled as he remembered the reply Roman had given him. What did it mean? Did he like him? Did he care if he did or not?  
"I don't know D!" Peter finally snapped, "Maybe! Now I'm gonna go out. I'll see you later."  
He could hear her giggle as he left the flat rapidly.

////

On the other side of town Roman lay on his bed, tossing a ball into the air with his right hand and catching it with his left as his iPod sat across the room on shuffle. He didn't even know what he was listening to - it was some shitty dance track Letha had added for herself when she stole his iPod from him. Too tired to get up and actually turn it off, Roman tried his hardest to tune it out as he rolled his tongue over his teeth and contemplated his day. Unable to remember a single thing he'd learnt, he could remember every minute detail of his conversations with Peter. He hated himself for it. Besides, what the fuck had been with that sappy reply he gave just as Peter got on the bus? His heart beat was frantic as he replayed the memory, the butterflies churning just as they had when he'd reached out and grabbed Peter's arm. His mouth was dry and for a second it felt like no words would leave it, and then he spoke. He admitted something. It wasn't a declaration. It wasn't a bouquet of roses. But it was a something. Peter was now a something instead of a nothing. Roman let out a coarse laugh as he finally rolled over and onto the floor, turning off his iPod and glancing at himself momentarily in the full length mirror before swiftly turning away and heading downstairs to grab himself a drink. Trust him to turn a fucking prostitute into a something. 

Returning to his bedroom, straight vodka in hand, Roman gazed at his reflection in the mirror. He wore a tight vest top and black jeans, the colours a stark contrast to his pale complexion. He let out a long sigh before taking a drink and placing it down, picking up a razor blade instead. He rolled his head around his shoulders before lifting the blade and making a clean incision over the left side of his collar bone. The blood ran over his chalky-white skin and stained his dark grey vest as Roman watched on avidly. Peter was a something, and Roman had no fucking clue what to do about it.

////

He was hot. With a physique like that Peter found it hard to understand why he would have to pay someone to fuck him, but he certainly wasn't complaining about the money, or the chance to top for a change. Peter missed topping. Having the control and the pace. There was something about bottoming that made you feel remarkably vulnerable and powerless, yet he'd mastered the art of concealing that vulnerability, shoving it to the pit of his stomach to wrench away at his guts. 

He left the motel that night with a self-satisfactory smirk on his face, happy with the change of position and the handsome pay check that came with it. He shoved a hand into his pocket and brushed his fingers against the wad of cash in reassurance that he still had it when, for the second time that day, he found his path blocked by a freshman. Peter immediately recognized her wild curly hair.  
"It's disgusting." she told him indignantly and he found himself becoming increasingly irritated by her insistent tone of voice.  
"Right." he agreed, trying to step around her but she managed to block him again. Out here Peter felt no need to hide it. His type of job wasn't exactly uncommon out here.  
"I've seen you y'know. It's not right," she continued and Peter felt his temper rise. Who did she think she was, passing judgement on his lifestyle? He never went up to her and told her to buy a fucking hairbrush!  
"Look sweetheart," he began, trying my hardest not to let his anger boil, "It's none of your business what you've seen me do or who you've seen me sleep with."  
"Who's talking about sex?" she asked him quizzically, her eyes narrowing slightly. Peter felt a frown appear on his face; what on Earth was she talking about then? Unless...  
"I'm talking about what you turn into on a full moon," she whispered conspiratorially as she continued to scrutinize him. His heart pounded in his ears as he heard her soft words in the silent night. Peter instantly plastered on his best game face.  
"Thats crazy talk. Now run along and get yourself a life," he spat before walking past her hurriedly, fear nipping at his brain.

She knew. How could she possibly know?!


	5. Peter's Special Guts

Roman could smell the electric tension that filled the school as soon as he pulled up in the parking lot. Something had happened.  
"Jesus!" exclaimed Letha from beside him, her unmoving eyes staring at her mobile.  
"What is it?" enquired Roman as he got out from the car and gazed around at the masses of students curiously.  
"Some freshman has spread yet another rumour about that weird new kid," she told him and Roman whipped his head around, more interested that he would like to admit, and asked what rumour was.  
"Apparently.... he's a werewolf!" Letha said, finally looking up at her cousin with a shake of her head.  
"Stupid kids," she murmured under her breath as she walked past Roman and up the steps towards the main building. Meanwhile Roman stood, fixated to the spot and looked around as though he'd be able to find Peter in the crowds. It was a stupid, childish rumour, but Roman's bones had inexplicably chilled at the words. With an eerie shiver he shook off the feeling and followed his cousin into school.

The stares had started up again. Peter wasn't being accused of being a murderer anymore and had had a solid few days without a fight, but when he walked into the school that day he could feel the eyes scorching his skin. He couldn't understand what had happened as he entered first period and saw every single head turn in his direction. With a nervous gulp Peter took his usual, and rather unfortunate, seat behind Roman. He too was watching him, eyebrows knitted together as though he was trying to ask a question. Unable to decipher him, Peter looked away with a racing heart, every instinct telling him that he should run for the hills.

"Apparently you're a werewolf," said Roman as Peter followed him outside at lunch time, finding themselves a quiet place to talk. Making an attempt to not react to the news Peter instead swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he took the cigarette Roman offered.  
"Well you can't deny their creativity," he tried to joke, as though making light of the situation would help.  
"Do you know who it was?" Roman asked. Peter nodded.  
"This freshman. Christina, I think? She keeps asking me about it." he explained with a half-hearted shrug, "There's some weird kids out there."  
Roman made a little "mhm" at the back of his throat in agreement before running his hand through his hair, letting it flop over his forehead and prickle at his eyes slightly as his hand tapped out a made up rhythm against his thigh.  
"So. Mine later?" he asked. Peter coughed uncontrollably but it wasn't at the smoke filling his lungs. He quickly passed back the cigarette as he leaned forwards and heaved heavily.  
"Um. Sure. Okay," replied Peter with a raspy voice, not quite sure he'd heard him right.  
"Good." was all Roman said before taking a drag himself and tossing away the cigarette as he walked away from Peter, his hands combing through his hair again. Peter watched him go, frowning harder than ever - what was Roman doing, inviting him to his house like that? Peter had never actually seen his place, as he'd always insisted on a motel room, or, if he couldn't be bothered to actually drive, the front seat of his car. More importantly, Peter thought as he too began walking away, what was he doing saying yes?

Roman's house was grand, to say the least. it stood proudly overlooking Hemlock Grove, with a tall, spiralling turret rising up and touching the sky. To be fair, Peter expected nothing less from the regal Godfrey family, and anything less would've been a disappointment. He gazed around and saw the red Jaguar parked next to a big black SUV with blacked out windows, most likely his mothers, before stepping up and ringing the petite doorbell. A tinkling sound chimed through the house and he took a step backwards and was relieved to see Roman open the door, and not his mother or worse, Shelley.  
"Hey," he said curtly, opening the door wide to let Peter in before slamming it closed after him. A curled up feeling inside Peter began to unfurl and stretch its wings, and a wave of nausea hit him as he realised it was fear. He had entered a tiger's den, and here all rules were Roman's rules.  
"This way," said Roman, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as he began to move up the curving staircase, his right hand motioning for Peter to follow. 

"Nice room," commented Peter as he glanced around at the sparse furniture before turning quickly to close the door behind him. Roman made a little "huh" noise.  
"I'm guessing its not usually this untidy," Peter chuckled as he began removing his jacket and hung it over the back of a chair. Beside him Roman smirked lightly, sweeping his eyes over his room before landing on Peter's face. Peter felt his heart thud inside his chest, the blood pounding out and drumming around his ears. What was the point of entering the tiger's den if you didn't take any risks? He leaned upwards slightly, once again reminded just how extraordinary long Roman's legs were. A hand wrapped itself around the back of Roman's neck as he skilfully angled Roman's head towards his own, yet before their lips could meet Roman removed himself from the situation.  
"I've told you," he began, his voice cold, "that's not happening. Ever."  
Peter shrugged and began unbuttoning his shirt. Whatever the client wanted. He was foolish to think they were anything else.

////

The pair lay naked and entangled in Roman's sheets, a cigarette being lazily passed between them, and Roman could remember only a few months back when Peter would've been up like a shot to get dressed, pay and leave. He gazed across the rugged young man who was lying beside him, utterly spent, and couldn't believe that things could've changed so drastically in only a few months. He could remember a time when he barely acknowledged Peter's existence, and to ever be comfortable sharing a cigarette wasn't even a possibility.  
"What're you thinking about?" asked Peter softly, his voice loud in their now silent surroundings.  
"Is it true?" asked Roman in return, refusing to answer Peter's question.  
"Is what true?" replied Peter, even though they both knew exactly what Roman was on about. Roman turned to face him cynically as he plucked the cigarette from Peter's fingers and took a drag himself.  
"Are you a werewolf?" he asked in a whisper, a barely audible word despite the dense silence that was seeping in under the door frame and through the windows. Peter looked away from Roman, his hand suddenly starting to play at the sheet that was barely covering his crotch. Inside him an argument raged. He wanted to trust Roman, he needed to trust Roman, but above all, despite everything anyone had ever said, he felt like he could trust Roman. Destiny had told him once that his guts were special guts, and that they could never be wrong. He knew what his gut was telling him. He'd always known.  
"Yes."

Moments passed, the still of the cool night air drifting between them, the silent noise it created deafening to their ears. Finally a sound was made and movement began.

"I shoul-"  
"You shoul-" they both began at the same time, their bowed heads raising to look directly at each other.  
"I should leave," restarted Peter, gathering up his clothes and beginning to hurriedly get dressed whilst carefully avoiding Roman's gaze. A hand suddenly became outstretched, within it a number of green bills. Roman had turned his head away from it, refusing to look at the deal he was offering.  
"Keep your damned money," growled Peter as he shoved his way past Roman and out of the door, leaving the tall teenager alone, naked and unmoving until he heard his front door slam. Roman groaned out loud, clutching at his hair as he fell to his knees. Just when he thought things couldn't get any messier, another bombshell had landed on their heads.


	6. Cracking Bones and Tearing Flesh

"Get in the car," said Roman, pulling up at the curb in his prized Jaguar. Peter turned his head, glaring slightly.   
"Why?" he asked, gazing around as he spoke to see who was near. The streets were bare.  
"I said get in the car Peter," continued Roman.  
"If you're gonna kidnap me..." Peter murmured under his breath, climbing into the passenger seat beside Roman with a small start of fear at the base of his stomach. Roman only chuckled as he revved his car and pulled away from the curb, speeding down the empty roads. They drove through the centre of Hemlock Grove, and sailed right past the turn off to Roman's house.  
"Um..." began Peter, clearing his throat quietly and glancing to look at the driver. Roman looked back at him, an eyebrow quirked in question.  
"We missed your turn off," Peter told him simply as he pointed a finger over his shoulder in the vague direction of Roman's home.  
"Oh, I'm not going home," Roman snickered to himself, pressing his foot against the accelerator even harder as they passed the town limits.

There were leaves of every shade - deep reds and bright yellows and vibrant browns, all crunching beneath the tires of the Jaguar as Roman began driving through the forest that surrounded Hemlock Grove. Finally they came to a stop and Roman climbed out, gazing around carefully before looking up into the sky into the fading sun.  
"Roman?" asked Peter cautiously as he got out of the car and remained by its side in a position of relative safety. Roman simply turned to face him, an eyebrow raised as he took out his cigarettes and lit one, his eyes fluttering closed as he took a sharp drag. He offered it forward to Peter in his slim, pale fingers but Peter declined with a quick shake of his head. Smoking wasn't a good idea, this close to the change. Talking of which, he really needed to get out of there as every second moved the sun lower and the moon higher.   
"I... I want..." began Roman, before letting out a heavy sigh and a breathy "fuck it".  
"You want to watch me, don't you?" Peter asked with a sly smirk, and Roman's lack of either agreement or disagreement only proved him right. A chuckle escaped his throat as he began walking towards Roman, unbuttoning his shirt as he did.  
"All you had to do was ask. No need to kidnap me," he explained, taking off his shirt and tossing it at Roman's shocked face.  
"But I thought... I don't know..." he rambled, before exclaiming, "Peter!" like a scandalised teenage girl. Peter had removed both trousers and underpants whilst he'd been talking and tossed them at him too.  
"Christ you've seen it all before," he shrugged, stepping back from Roman as Roman dropped the clothes on the floor and kept his eyes firmly on Peter's face.  
"Will you.... um.... Will I be...?" he asked cautiously and Peter laughed throatily.  
"I'm still me. Mostly. I won't hurt you," he said sincerely, opening his eyes to gaze evenly across at him. Roman held the look for a few moments, grasping the subtlety in Peter's words before clearing his throat loudly and stepping back another pace.  
"When-" he began to say but at that moment Peter fell forward onto all fours, the bones in his back and his limbs breaking and reforming all at once.

////

The next morning saw Roman awaking in the backseat of his car, his muscles aching at the cramped conditions and his brain wanting to painfully murder the head-splitting chirping birds outside. He ran his tongue over his teeth and felt the back of his throat crackle with dehydration when suddenly a fist came rapping at the window. Roman rolled towards the door, letting the naked man in before walking around the car to climb into the drivers seat.  
"How was it?" he asked softly, his voice croaky as he watched Peter through the rearview mirror. Peter, meanwhile, had adopted the fleecy blanket Roman had just occupied, and was curled up against the window tiredly.  
"S'okay," he mumbled sleepily, raising his head to look back at Roman, "You know my name?" he asked with a smirk, knowing exactly what the joke meant to Roman, who had in turn began smiling. Roman turned around and grinned at Peter before plugging in his seatbelt and starting the car. Peter couldn't be certain, but he was fairly sure it was the first time Roman had ever smiled, properly, genuinely smiled at him for no other reason then the fact that he could. As his unconscious mind took over, Peter pondered what that meant.

That night, another girl died. A wild beast had torn at her and shredded her body until only the torso was left. The freshman, Christina, had found the body. She was in school, surrounded by a gaggle of girls Roman was sure had never even spoken to her before. As the news spread Roman couldn't help but think of the full moon the previous night and the way it had illuminated the tree line as Roman had stood still, hours after Peter had changed and weaved through the forest expertly. Roman had simply stood, watching the sky change and the moon rise and the clouds shift. His breaths had been evened and controlled, his body tense with relax. Finally he had retreated back to his car as his legs had begun to sag with his own weight and his calves had begun to ache. Roman had never felt so peaceful. The back of his mind whispered at him, as he entered first period, that he would never be so peaceful again.

////

Roman had made a little "follow me" motion as Peter passed him upon exiting the classroom, and with a quick check to make sure no one was watching, he did just that. They'd barely left the school building when he turned on Peter with venom.  
"Was it you?" he asked and Peter stumbled backwards as Roman pushed himself into Peter's space.  
"Of course it wasn't!" exclaimed Peter indignantly. Roman stood stock still, his eyes darting back and forth over Peter's as they stood, their foreheads millimetres from touching and their breath mingling in the cool air. After what felt like an eternity Roman eventually stepped backwards, having reassured himself that Peter hadn't, in fact, killed anyone.  
"Then who was it?" he asked quietly, running his hands through his hair tiredly. With a heavy exhale Peter shrugged. He had no fucking clue.

Weeks passed. Roman would invite Peter to his every so often, seemingly on a whim. When Peter wasn't at his he was back on the streets, earning himself a living. He daren't admit it but he missed the secrecy of their motel trysts. The way Roman's car would rumble behind him and Peter knew that tonight would be a good night. He made decent money, he had some halfway decent sex, but nothing could compare. Things changed at Destiny's too. He came home one day to find a brand new flat screen TV engulfing their living room. Apparently it was courtesy of Andreas, who was now turning up more and more often. Peter had asked D if they were back together but she refused to tell him, saying they were still "working things out", only for him to come home the next day to find them at it on the sofa. 

////

"I should be studying...." murmured Peter lazily, as he curled up on Roman's bed in a mess of sheets and discarded clothes.  
"Fuck studying," chuckled the taller boy beside him, who was stretched out like a cat until his feet fell off the end of his bed.  
"Some of us have to work for college y'know. We don't all get to bribed in," replied Peter, quickly jabbing Roman in the stomach only to be poked back even harder.  
"You work too hard," mumbled Roman, running a hand over his face as he refused to turn and look at Peter.  
"We're not talking about school, are we?" asked Peter quietly despite already knowing the answer. Roman got up suddenly, grabbing himself a pair of underpants and his jeans.  
"I don't get it Peter. Sure, the money's great but is it worth it? You could pick up anyone. Anything could happen," he said, his shoulders tensing up as he spoke.  
"That's the point," chuckled Peter, causing Roman to whip his head around and glare at him. Peter sighed and got up and started getting dressed too.  
"The adrenaline rush. The knowledge that, as you put it, anything could happen. It... it makes the wolf happy. The constant fear mixed with pleasure..." he tried to explain. Roman was listening intently.   
"I can't explain it Roman. I just like it,"   
Roman just shook his head disdainfully and tossed the rest of Peter's clothes at him, leaving a lump sum of money on the table before walking out and towards the kitchen. Moments later, a glass of vodka happily in his stomach, he heard the door slam angrily and Peter's scruffy boots crunch along the gravel drive. Roman slipped back upstairs and entered his bedroom, his eyes immediately drawn to the money still on the table and untouched. 

The next day Peter rang Roman's doorbell at 6:03pm, a determined expression set on his face.  
"Lets go," was all he said and Roman grabbed his car keys, setting off towards the woods only seconds later.  
"Cutting it a bit fine, aren't we?" commented Roman as he gazed at the setting sun in the distance but he received no reply as Peter sat across from him, nervously fidgeting. As the car came to a stop and Peter stumbled out, Roman could barely believe it had been an entire month ago that he'd first seen this happen. He could remember it like it was yesterday and every crack of Peter's bones and every squelch of shifting flesh reminded Roman of the same setting and the same scenario, yet back then there had been so much uncertainty in the air. Peter was away in a black wipe of fur and Roman was left crouching on the ground, still unable to comprehend that he'd been given the opportunity to witness the single most beautiful event in the world, for a second time.

Once again, Roman slept in his car yet this time, he tossed and turned until the early hours of the night. Peter kept refusing his money, and here he was again, uncomfortably curled up in his car to wait for the boy. The boy who could change his entire being into a sleek and cunning wolf. The boy who Roman would never be able to call anything other than beautiful. He'd never felt this way, never expected to feel this way. He certainly never expected to have someone reciprocate that, yet the wolf that roamed Hemlock Grove at that very moment would always come back to him - of that he was sure. Roman was ugly. He saw it every time he looked in the mirror. Maybe, just maybe, if he tried hard enough, some of Peter's beauty would rub off on him.

////

The Hemlock Grove PD had never been so busy, as they woke up to find yet another dead teenage girl. Brows were wiped and tears were shed, yet no one was any closer to finding the wild beast.

////

"Peter, you were out last night. You must've heard something. Seen something," said Roman insistently as he tugged Peter behind the gym, a low urgency in his voice.  
"I don't know anything Roman! I... I..." Peter racked his brains. There was something, but he didn't know what it was. A faded memory at the back of his mind, like a dusty photo of your grandparents.  
"There was a scent... wolf, but not wolf," he said as he closed his eyes, trying to focus on the memory. A forest. Him, but younger. His mom. Nicolae...  
"Vargulf," he said, the word tumbling from his lips instinctively as he reached up to grab Roman's shoulders.   
"Var... what?!" asked Roman, pushing Peter's hands away to curb his excitement and to start explaining.  
"It's a wolf, just like me, but its sick. Its... its gone crazy. It no longer kills to eat, it kills because it can," Peter told him with a slump of his shoulders, "Yet it can look like anyone. Anybody in this town could be the killer."  
"Fucking great," was all Roman could say as he removed a cigarette and lit it up. What scrap of information they now had was as useless as what they'd had before.


	7. There's A First Time For Everything

Destiny was home alone by the time Peter got back from school, Andreas nowhere to be found.   
"Hey," he called out as he delved into the fridge and yanked out the carton of orange juice, interrupting Destiny's police procedural.   
"Hey," she replied tiredly, stretching out like a cat and yawning loudly. Peter took a swig of orange juice straight from the carton before dumping it on the counter and heading out towards his bedroom.  
"I'll be going out later," he called out but with surprising speed Destiny leapt from the couch and yanked on his arm.  
"I wanted to talk about that, actually," she explained, leading him by his left hand back to the couch. Peter's face creased in confusion.  
"Is everything okay?" he asked, letting himself be sat down as she sat opposite.  
"I... I've always been supportive, haven't I? I mean, I've let you get on with your own thing and we both know it's good money... I just... I worry, Peter! I worry!" she said in a scramble of words, her hands fidgeting in her lap as she spoke.  
"Plus... plus you go out. All night. Not even a phone call! And when you do come home you don't bring any cash. Have you ever thought of a real job Peter?"  
Peter automatically felt like retorting that he already had a proper job but he couldn't. He was too tired. He thinks of Roman yesterday, of the money he left on the table. Of his excuses. Blaming it on the wolf.   
"Yeah... Yeah I have," he said and it almost feels like a weight lifted from his shoulders as Destiny pulled him into a hug.  
"You're still seeing him, aren't you? That boy, from school," said Destiny quietly as she removed her limbs from the embrace. Peter nodded.   
"We're... he's..." Peter had no words. He couldn't tell Destiny that Roman knew his secret, the one that could get him killed. She could forgive a lot of shit but she couldn't forgive that.  
"It's okay Peter, as long as you know what you're doing."  
If only, thought Peter, if only he had any fucking clue what he was doing.

////

Peter saw Christina again, the next day at school. She stood at the edge of the corridors, glaring out at him from under her tangle of hair as the two blonde twins chatted around her. Peter avoided eye contact. She'd already fucked up his life enough, but he couldn't help but notice the single streak of white that flashed through her hair.   
"Hey," called Roman, striding up behind him and pulling Peter's eyes away from Christina.  
"Hey," he replied, his mind racing. Her hair, he'd seen it somewhere before. Peter felt the deja vu rising in his stomach. He recognised it and he recognised its meaning, he just couldn't place it. In a burst of clarity, his brain slotted it into place.  
"Oh..." he stuttered, attracting Roman's attention.  
"You okay?" asked the taller boy, grabbing Peter's elbow without thought.  
"We need to talk," said Peter as he shook himself free of Roman's grip and led him outside, fingers already fumbling with the cigarette packet.

"Peter," said Roman with a frown as he waited patiently in a hidden corner of the school's exterior. Peter had been silent, focusing on the inhale and exhale of smoke as his mind struggled to make sense of its revelation.  
"I..." began Peter, clearing his throat before trying again, "the vargulf, I think I know who it is."  
This caught Roman's full attention.  
"Peter!" he exclaimed, grabbing at his shoulders and shaking him, "tell me!"  
"I'm not certain... I think its Christina. I think," replied Peter, meeting Roman's falling face.  
"The weird werewolf freshman?" he asked, eyes narrowed at Peter. It didn't sound particularly plausible; she was little more than a crazy 14 year old girl.   
"Her hair," explained Peter, "her hair is turning white."  
"I still don't see how that makes her a vargulf..." said Roman skeptically, taking Peter's cigarette from his fingers and taking a drag.  
"I remember - I was a kid and I was talking with my grandfather. Nicolae. He was a vargulf and he was telling me that the insanity of the wolf, it drives the human crazy too. They change and- and their hair turns white."  
"Peter, are you sure?" asked Roman sincerely. He might be a Godfrey but there would still be repercussions - especially for Peter - if they went around falsely accusing a kid. Peter nodded insistently.  
"I'm sure."  
Roman let out a deep breath.   
"Okay then... what do we do now?" he asked softly, teeth chewing at his lips.  
"We kill her," replied Peter, his facial expression never changing. Roman, for all his dark secrets and ugliness, felt the words punch him in the stomach and send nausea rising.  
"We... uh... Peter are you being serious-"  
"We can't let her carry on living, Roman. She won't stop killing unless we stop her first."  
"But she's a kid,"   
"And she's already murdered three, how many more will it take to convince you?" asked Peter rhetorically, bypassing Roman and walking off in his trademark slouch. Roman watched him go. He wanted to know what had happened to Peter to make him so callous about murdering a child, yet at the same time he doubted it would be a happy story, and he wasn't so sure he wanted to know all of Peter's demons.

"I'm in," Roman told Peter as he steered him towards his car at the end of the school day, "what do we do now?"  
"Now," smiled Peter as he hopped into the passenger seat of the red Jaguar, "now we set a trap."  
The plan was as follows; Roman was going to lay a route using blood as scent markers up to the derelict church on the edge of town, quiet yet open enough to suit their purpose. Peter was going to transform and, in his words, "rip her head from her shoulders with his teeth". Roman had chuckled at the irony of Peter's chosen setting - and even Peter himself couldn't help but smirk.  
"Half the reason I chose it," he winked, tongue in cheek.  
"So when will this master plan go down?" asked Roman, knowing full well it'd barely been a week since the previous full moon.  
"The vargulf can change whenever it chooses, its not restricted by the moon," said Peter glumly, the unspoken "but I am" in the air between them.  
"So we wait a month?" asked Roman, his thumb caught between his teeth and only one hand on the wheel.  
"Ah!" exclaimed Peter, finger raised in the air as he smiled brightly, "there might be a way for me to change against the moon, however it does include talking to my cousin."  
"Your cousin? The fake-ass psychic?"  
"She's not as fake-ass as you might think." said Peter proudly as Roman drove them to Peter's place, despite never having asked him for an address.

////

Destiny refused. Peter tried cajoling her into it as Roman stood back, leaning against the sofa, but to no avail.   
"Its too dangerous Peter. I won't let you," she told him, hands on hips and even from their first five minute encounter, Roman could tell she was in charge.  
"I'm practically an adult Destiny, I can make my own choices!" exclaimed Peter as he ran his hands through his hair. He needed a haircut more than ever.  
"Emphasis on the word "practically" cuz, what would Lynda say if I let her only child become a vargulf?"   
"Lynda never needs to know," replied Peter and Roman could only assume Lynda was his mom.  
"And when you become an insane anima-" began Destiny, voice thick with indignation only to be cut off by Roman.  
"Look, there's girls dying in this town because this town already has a vargulf. If Peter is the only one to stop it then I say go for it and screw the consequences. What other choice do we have?"   
Destiny looked him up and down before turning back to Peter with a strange expression of almost sympathy.  
"This him?" she asked quietly and Peter gave no reply, which Destiny took as an affirmative. Roman had no idea what "him" meant but he could tell it wasn't all together good. The three of them stood in silence for a few moments before Destiny spoke again.  
"I'll do it-" she said and Peter's eyes lit up - "but I have one condition. Next time shit goes down, you come to me first." she told him, moving past him towards the kitchen and pausing briefly to murmur, too quiet for Roman to hear, "Not your favourite fucking client."

////

They made the executive decision to wait for the weekend, so if Peter did get hurt he had time to lick his wounds. Roman appeared indifferent to the possibility of Peter getting hurt, but with a smirk of satisfaction Peter could tell it did worry him - even if it was only on a subconscious level.

They got started an hour before sundown on Saturday. Roman was to set a trail from near the centre of Hemlock Grove leading to the church at the edges of Hemlock Acres. He laid a new scent every hundred metres or so, only a dribble of blood from the small incision on his wrist on the bark of a tree or the post of a fence. Peter had been concerned at first, when Roman had grabbed a razor blade from a drawer in his bed side table and immediately dug it into his skin, but Peter had also seen the long gash still slicing Roman's chest. He knew when to ask questions, and it wasn't really the right time. Roman finished the trail with a spot of blood on the imposing doorway into the church before entering the grand space and finding Peter sat in the throne upon the alter. He chuckled at the sight.  
"Feel important?" he asked and Peter smirked in reply before getting up and heading down the steps.  
"You finish the trail?" he enquired and Roman nodded, unable to speak as he pursed his lips against the small wound on his wrist and licked at the blood. Satisfied that he'd stopped the bleeding for now, Roman's footsteps echoed in the empty space as he moved to sit beside Peter on the steps. As had become their custom, Roman pulled out his cigarette packet, shoved two in his mouth, lit them and then passed one to Peter, who accepted gratefully. They sat in the musty air of the church in companionable silence, waiting patiently for the sun to glide over the horizon.   
"You haven't taken any money from me in months," said Roman suddenly, breaking the sacred silence of the church.  
"So?" asked Peter, beginning to feel uncomfortable at the direction of the conversation.  
"So does that still make me your... err... 'client'?" replied Roman. Peter chuckled nervously and shook his head.  
"I... I have been looking, actually. For jobs, that is. Real jobs," he admitted, feeling his cheeks warm with mild embarrassment.  
"Seriously?" asked Roman and Peter nodded, his bottom lip caught between his teeth coyly.  
"So-" began Roman but he was stopped short by the cracking of Peter's neck and the rough growl of his voice - "It's time." It turned Roman on more than he'd dare to admit but his train of thought was lost as Peter stripped his t-shirt and fell to his knees, losing flesh as he went. Roman thought he'd be accustomed to the change Peter went through but every single time he found it more mesmerising than the previous. Within minutes Peter had gone and in his place was a sleek black wolf, eyes golden and teeth bared. Peter picked up a piece of his own flesh and toyed with it between his teeth when both man and wolf heard the soft pounding of an approaching animal on the stone floor of the church. Rounding the corner came the snowy white fur of the vargulf, eyes little more than black pinpricks in her head. It was time.

Before Roman could register what was happening Peter was gone, his paws pounding against the floor as he sprinted for Christina. A feral snarl ripped from her throat as she too leapt forward into a dash. The two collided in the dim light of the crescent moon, teeth snapping as they grappled with one another. Roman remained at the edge of the fight, watching intently as Peter and Christina taunted and nipped at each other with a vicious ferocity. They fought for tense minutes, growling and clawing at each other until a dark patch of blood stained the white fur of Christina's shoulder. She took a step back, giving Peter a chance to gather his strength and leap into another attack. The odds looked good for Peter as he came down hard on Christina, his teeth sinking into her neck but it wasn't to be as she flipped him onto his back and started ravishing at his chest.  
"NO!" yelled Roman, running out and throwing himself onto Christina's back before his concious mind could catch up. He dragged her off of Peter and tossed her against the stone floor. She growled up at him, her eyes filled with nothing but anger and hatred as she sprung back up, more powerful then Roman could ever be and pinned him back to the floor. He lifted his arms to her neck, pushing her snout as far from his neck as he could but she kept reaching down, teeth snapping and drooling in anticipation. Then she was gone. Instinctively Roman shuffled backwards and away from the action, watching as Peter tussled with Christina before finally managing to reach down and clasp at her neck with his teeth. A spurt of blood dribbled down her neck as she went limp with a satisfying crack, her neck broken. Peter released her from his grasp, moving away from her now human form, teeth smeared with her blood.   
"Peter," murmured Roman, looking at the wolf in amazement. Peter returned the gaze, yellow eyes softening as he watched Roman gather himself up and walk over to Christina. Her hair was now brown and as unruly as ever, her face innocent and peaceful. Roman had no idea what to say to her, so instead he simply moved his hand over her face to close her eyelids softly. She was only a child.   
"Lets go," he said quietly, walking away from her body and out of the church. Peter remained, watching Roman leave before turning back to look at Christina. He nosed at her face, inhaling, before turning on his heel and following Roman.

It was a clear night, the thin sliver of moon barely illuminating the soft ground before them. Sniffing at the air, Peter could feel snow on its way. He lay down amongst the headstones, curling in on himself as he felt all of his bones break and reform, skin forming across the fur on his back and his vertebrae settling into place. Exhausted he lay on the cool earth, a light sheen of blood and sweat covering his shivering body. Roman was crouched beside him and was speechless, jaw hanging open aimlessly. He reached out an arm and dragged his hand over Peter's shoulder, down his arm and across his hip.  
"Wow," he breathed as in the still night air he could hear the slight whimpers Peter was making. Roman lifted Peter up, an arm under his knees and another under his back and carried him briefly to his car, glad to have taken his mother's SUV on this occasion. Peter was already asleep as he was laid down on the backseat and covered with an oversized afghan Roman had stolen from Shelley's room. As silently as possible, Roman clambered into the front seat and reclined the back of his chair, curling up as much as his long legs would allow. Within minutes he too was asleep, the adrenaline leaving his system rapidly.

////

"We need to go," said Peter, shaking at Roman's shoulder in the chilly light of dawn the next day.   
"Huh?" asked Roman, his throat crackling and coughing as he spoke.  
"We need to go," repeated Peter, "there's a dead body in the church," he explained, pointing unnecessarily at the church behind them. "  
"Oh. Yeah," said Roman, dragging the back of his hand over his mouth and taking in the sight of Peter kneeling on the backseat, barely covered by the afghan. Without thinking he reached up and clasped at the back of Peter's neck, pulling their heads together and kissing him. It was careful, both boys too tired to put any heat into it but kissing Roman was everything Peter had imagined it would be; soft and even a little innocent. Roman was no virgin, Peter most definitely knew that, yet he didn't think Roman had had much experience when it came to kissing. Especially if the only people he'd been with had been prostitutes. All too quickly it was over, Roman motioning to the steering wheel. Peter nodded in agreement, settling back into the backseat.  
"You did good," said Roman as he pulled away and left the church in the distance. Peter smirked, eyeing Roman in the rearview mirror but Roman refused to make eye contact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it! Over a year later and finally I got it finished. Howeverrrr it isn't yet listed as complete as I do have an epilogue on the way... but I just wanted to get this final goddamn chapter out there!


End file.
